Origins Drakana
by Azrael Heavenblade
Summary: This story tells of the dark past of the dark elven shadow knight, Drakana, how her noble family was destroyed, herself tortured and abandoned for dead, but redemption found in the arms of the young human monk, Obelisk.


In Neriak, the House X'Bael was one of the most powerful, and influential of the noble families, supporters of Naythox Thex, the dark elf king, which earned them the animosity of those who supported the queen. As such, Lucifer X'Bael, the patriarch of the family, was forced into court intrigue to prevent the ruination of his entire House. He had prospered in his ownership of one of the local forges, and many of the guards wore armor produced from it. His wife, Lilith X'Bael, had given him two sons, and a daughter, Drakana X'Bael. While the two brothers, Golgoth and Grendael joined the ranks of the warriors, as Lucifer had done in his youth, Drakana, surprisingly, had found a talent for magic as well as strength, and was enrolled as a shadow knight at the Lodge of the Dead. Why was this surprising? Neither Lucifer nor Lilith had shown any talent for magic, being a warrior and a rogue respectively, but there were those who had practiced the Dark Arts earlier on in the bloodline, so they reasoned it had come from one of the powerful necromancers who had founded the House. Drakana was not reviled for her parents' political maneuverings, instead, she excelled at her training, and had become the favorite of some of the novices' circles. However, one day, Lucifer X'Bael had been attempting to secure funds from the king to finance a rather hefty ore shipment from Lavastorm, when Karadin J'Narus, one of the other nobles, pointed out intelligence that X'Bael had another side business going on. He had been smuggling ore in from the goblins at Runnyeye Citadel, to further his production levels. Though the appropriate punishment for violating the trade agreements set down by the queen was loss of his assets and exile, the king showed unusual pity by allowing Lucifer to propose a punishment. Knowing that Karadin had often complained of a lack of a security force for his trade caravans, he offered the services of one of his children, expecting Karadin to hire Golgoth, who had done several freelance jobs before, and had a good reputation. However, Karadin gave a twisted grin, twisting his long goatee thoughtfully, and asked for Drakana, Lucifer's youngest to come to his mansion. Lucifer protested, claiming that she was too young, not even old enough to leave Nektulos forest. The king had began to suggest that Karadin indeed take one of the brothers, but he insisted, and the queen backed him up, and the king finally gave in, making the agreement binding. This is where our story begins . . .  
  
Karadin walked past the ghouls guarding the entrance to the Lodge of the Dead, and licked his lips in anticipation. Unmarried, though still fairly young, he had taken a liking not entirely wholesome to the young X'Bael girl, and had often spied on her using his skeleton servant, using the dark arts to graft his sight into the skeleton's empty sockets. Reaching the entrance, he slid aside the door and strode down the hall towards the main chamber, where he could hear the clang of steel upon steel. There, clad in only her top and loincloth, Drakana was practicing the skill bash for the first time with her instructor, who blocked with his own shield and gave pointers. Karadin stopped in the doorway and looked her over appreciatively. Her indigo skin was covered with a sheen of sweat, and her clothing clung tightly to her body. She was just becoming an adult, leaving adolescence behind, and her body had matured noticeably since she had come to train, becoming a true beauty. His eyes traced over her muscular frame, and his teeth ached in longing, a fire lighting itself in his gut, as lust briefly overtook him.  
  
Eventually, the training session was over, and Drakana walked off to one side, grasping a black, soft towel to dry off. As she put it down, she noticed Karadin staring at her. "Was it good for you too?" she asked sarcastically, giving him a glare that could melt Permafrost. "A fine spirit, I like that," Karadin commented, moving into the room, and behind him, four of his guards moved into view. Instinctively, she took a step back. Whatever reason he had come here for, it wasn't just to praise her personality. He wouldn't need guards to do that. "What . . . do you want?" she asked hesitantly, but no fear had entered her voice, though her ruby- hued eyes darted back and forth to search out an escape route should it become necessary. Karadin's grin came back in full force now, a very predatory grin, showing the long canine teeth which he had been known for, giving him the nickname, "Blood-drinker." "You have been . . . granted to my 'service' by your father, Lucifer X'Bael," he crooned, almost slithering closer to her. Her eyes opened wide in shock. "You lying bastard! My father would never do that!" she growled at him, her anger flaring, and she snatched up her training sword and shield in her hands. He shook his head confidently, the grin never leaving his face, and he continued. "You are hereby removed from your training, and are to be a servant in my home, subject to my every wish. You may not know this, but your father has made a terrible blunder. His little side deal with goblins has left him in a sort of a pickle. Since I rightfully pointed this betrayal out, it was only proper that he be punished. The king however, allowed him to set the punishment. He was always too softhearted towards Lucifer, no Teir'Dal should ever show such mercy, but your father himself said that he would grant me the services of one of his children, so I chose you!" "Wait just a minute, my training hasn't finished! I'm not even allowed to leave the forest yet! I can't guard your caravans just yet!" she protested, and the guildmaster nodded. "My dear girl, whoever said I wanted you for a guard?" he asked softly as his guards moved menacingly forwards.  
  
Shrill screams tore the calm of the Third Gate as Drakana was carried forcefully from the Lodge of the Dead by the remaining two guards that J'Narus had brought. She had injured the other two, and they were recovering back in the Lodge. As the ersatz procession walked back up the slope towards the rest of the city, Lucifer and his two sons stepped out to confront them. "Karadin, this has gone too far. You cannot break her out of her training for this, either of my sons would gladly serve you, but please, spare my daughter," Lucifer begged Karadin, who laughed as if the very idea was preposterous. "A deal is a deal. If you have a problem, take it up with the Queen, I have no need for further guards, but I do have need of her," he replied, and started to move forwards again, but Lucifer stretched out his arm to block his path. The two men's eyes met in a glare, violet meeting crimson, and Karadin swung his fist into the side of Lucifer's head without warning, stunning the other man. Golgoth and Grendael moved to intercept Karadin as he started again, but Lucifer waved them off. He stood up shakily, and watched with deep regret as his bitterest rival carried off his wife's favorite child.  
  
For weeks, screams shook the walls of the mansion, as Karadin engaged in his favorite past-time, torture. Drakana was hung by her wrists from the ceiling, and her ankles were also bolted to the floor. Her light clothing had been reduced to shreds, and several deep lacerations from his whip covered her body, red rivulets of blood seeping down to the floor. "My, this is fun, don't you agree?" Karadin asked with glee, his hands rubbing together. Drakana growled and attempted to answer him, but couldn't through the gag that had been tied across her mouth. He shook his head, and thought out loud, "No, I suppose you don't find this fun, but I do." That spectral hunger crept into his eyes again, and he stepped forwards and looked longingly at the dark streaks of blood, and, standing the craving no more, he knelt and began licking the blood off her body. She twisted in pain and humiliation, but she couldn't move away from him, or his teeth, which he dug into the wounds to renew the flow. His hunger only intensified, he stood up, and ripped what remained of Drakana's clothes off, leaving her naked and shivering in the cold of the dungeon. So far, he had only attacked her legs, and bare midriff, but with a fury, he swung the whip over and over, lacerating every inch of skin, her breasts, thighs, buttocks, back, face, neck. After a while, he lowered the whip to the floor, sweat covering his face. With a gleam in his eyes, and the itch in his teeth, he began gorging himself on the blood now pouring from her body, as well as the taste of her skin and sex. A wild passion entered him, and he could not help biting her as he worked up and down, as she screamed silently, tears streaming down her face.  
  
Weeks later . . .  
  
Karadin opened the scroll from the messenger, and his eyes opened wide with delight. He tipped the messenger outrageously, pouring platinum coins into his hands. He practically skipped as he walked down the steps to the dungeon. Drakana still hung there, but J'Narus' personal cleric was attending her, curing her of the infection that was plaguing her injuries, but not healing them. Karadin stopped in front of her, and she raised her head weakly to balefully glare at him. He chuckled, and chucked her under the chin like a child. Enraged, she strained at her bonds, but she was unable to break them, even when she had been at peak strength, now she was as weak as the child he treated her as. "I'm afraid I have some bad news . . . apparently, your father has been attempting to break the contract and send people here to rescue you," he told her, and a glimmer of hope entered her eyes. "Unfortunately," he continued, "He wasn't successful. Both your brothers, as well as a number of your House's guards, are dead. House X'Bael is ordered to be dissolved by the Queen, and exiled. I believe they left yesterday for the Lavastorm Mountains." Though she thought her tears had long since stopped running, new ones found their way out of her eyes as her grief of her brother's deaths filled her, as well as a indomitable hatred for J'Narus. He rolled the scroll back up and tossed it on the table. He nodded to the priest, and the older man got up and left the dungeon. "That means that you are no longer a noble daughter, just a simple servant, which means I now OWN you. Which reminds me, I have some new toys I want to try out . . . " he told her, and pulled several spiked and bladed objects from his robes. "Let's sample this one first shall we?" he exclaimed, selecting a short, rounded, yet spiked rod. As he slid her legs apart, her screaming began anew as she realized precisely what the rod was for.  
  
Months passed, and Karadin found one day that she no longer responded to his abuse. No matter what he did to her, she just hung there like a statue. He seized the priest by the collar of his robes and demanded, "What's wrong? Why, by Innoruuk's left eye isn't she at least wincing?" The priest struggled to gain breath and gasped, "It can happen, lord. She has been injured so many times that her nerves have been deadened. Even if I heal her, I'm not sure if they will recover." Disgusted, Karadin dropped him to the floor. "Well," he remarked, staring up at the dark elf woman, "When your toys get old, you must throw them out." It didn't take much effort to carry the weakened Drakana out to Nektulos forest, and they avoided notice by wrapping her up in the oilcloth sheet usually used to throw away garbage. After they passed the bridge, the guards tossed her naked, bleeding body onto the damp grass of the forest. "Now, all that remains is for one of the bears roaming this forest to find her. Chomp-chomp, no more embarrassment. Come now, let's go back for a drink, my treat," Karadin muttered, and led his guards back.  
  
Her blood slicking the grass, Drakana forced open her eyes. She felt . . . shredded, as her wrists and ankles were raw from the restraints in addition to her injuries. Despite her new freedom, she could scarcely crawl, and every inch brought new agony. Shaking with the strain, she dragged herself slowly toward the tunnel leading out of the forest, but after a couple minutes she collapsed. It's no use, I'll either bleed to death or be killed by a monster out here. It's over, she thought, and lowered her head down to the grass, which was still wet from the morning dew.  
  
A young Kodiak stopped as it chewed on the small berries it had found on the bush and sniffed the air. The coppery scent of blood was clearly evident in the air. It lumbered off in the direction of the smell, and found a trail of blood, which it followed eagerly. At the end, it found Drakana, unconscious from blood loss. It lowered it's great head to begin eating, the emptiness in it's stomach gnawing, when a great blow collided with it's nose. It stumbled back in shock, only to find a young human attacking it again. With a roar, it attempted to maul its assailant, who attacked it with only his fists and feet. Though the bear had slain erstwhile young dark elf adventurers, carrying weapons, he was being pummeled to death by this unarmed man. His ribs broken, and his head reeling, he turned to run, but a final kick from the human snapped his neck, and he dropped to the forest floor, dead. Obelisk also collapsed, but to inspect what the bear had been about to make a meal of. He shook Drakana lightly, but she gave no response. He was about to mend his wounds and go home when a drop of his own blood from the injuries he had received from the bear dropped onto her face. With a moan, she opened her eyes a crack, turned her head slightly towards him, then dropped it again, drifting back into unconsciousness. Unbelievable, she's alive, he thought, and he hurriedly applied what bandages he had been carrying to her body, but there simply wasn't enough to cover the mass of cuts. He mended his own wounds using his skill, then picked her up and hefted her onto his shoulder. I've got to get her to a cleric right away, or she's going to die! he thought worriedly as he ran off into the dark ravine leading to the Commonlands.  
  
Zektoll the novice magician was sitting in the room he had rented in North Freeport, scribing the new spells he had purchased, as he had just started into his twelfth season, as well as his fourth circle of magic. His long white hair hung down past the left side of his head, obscuring part of the scroll's words, and he pushed it absently aside as he got to that part. He had no sooner finished copying down the last part into his spell book when a knock sounded at the door. He growled irritably and stood up, his pointed ears twitching, as the scroll faded away into nothingness, it's icon now showing up on the page where the words had been written only seconds ago. He thrust open the door, and shouted, "No, I will absolutely not donate to the.huh?" He stopped short as he took in the image of Obelisk standing there, covered in blood, carrying an equally reddened dark elf. He looked out worriedly down the corridor, waving the monk in, expecting the paladin guards to come rushing up the steps to his floor any second. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind him as Obelisk pulled out a spare cot and placed Drakana on it, her skin an alarming shade of gray underneath the blood. "You can't bring her in here!" Zektoll hissed, looking at the door as if it would burst open any minute. He continued, "I know you're my best friend and all, but we'll both be in big trouble if we are discovered bringing a Teir'Dal into North Freeport! Why didn't you bring her to your folks' place in West Freeport? They don't mind inkies down there." He relaxed as nothing happened, then asked, "How on Norrath did you sneak her in here anyways?" "Snuck her in, exactly," Obelisk replied. He began applying Zektoll's stack of bandages to her, and when they ran out, he waved for him to summon more. Despairingly, the high elf agreed, and cast the spell to summon bandages, and within moments, another large stack of bandages was being applied to the multitude of wounds covering Drakana's body.  
  
"That ought to do it," Obelisk commented, standing up and cracking the stiff joints in his legs, back, and neck from carrying her. Zektoll brought over a spare blanket and laid it down on her carefully, as if anticipating her to spring awake and lash out for his throat. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, and then asked, "Why'd you bring her to me anyways?" Obelisk shrugged sheepishly, and replied, "Well, I thought to get her healed here, but I thought against it when I considered how well they like dark elves here. I thought I'd ask you to help me because one, you can summon bandages, and two, you're a follower of Mithaniel Marr, so you can help me get one of the clerics or paladins over here so they can heal her." Zektoll paled visibly, his already fair skin becoming nearly white. After a minute of thinking, he agreed.  
  
"Absolutely not! I came here because you're a member of our congregation, not to heal dark elves!" The shout echoed through the inn as the paladin guild master looked down on the barely breathing dark elf woman with utter hatred. "Look, she can't harm anyone in this state, all I'm asking is for you to heal her enough so that she won't die!" Obelisk demanded back, and the older man looked at him incredulously. "I don't know what gets into the heads of you Quellious followers, but better a dead inkie than a live one," he responded, and started to leave when Obelisk asked venomously, "So you're just going to leave her there to die? Look at her, you believe in justice; those marks weren't made by some bear, but by a sword or whip! How can you just walk away?!" The other man turned to answer him, but was interrupted when a deep, gravelly voice spoke up, "Wha's got alla yer knickers in a twist, eh?" A dwarven cleric squeezed past the human paladin, and stepped into the room. He tottered over to a stool, lifted it up, and carried it over to where Drakana's cot was, and clambered up on top of it. The guild master's face twisted into a worried look, and he asked the dwarf, who was stroking his long, red beard thoughtfully, "Father Zelphanus, you needn't trouble yourself with this. You're here as an ambassador, not as a nursemaid." Zelphanus gave him a withering look, then turned back to Drakana, and began studying her. After a while, he gave a coughing growl, and demanded, "Why didn't ye ask me to come before? This lass tis nearly gone!" He turned to Obelisk and asked him hurriedly, "Tell me lad, how long was it before ye brought th' lassie in here, how long ago was she hurt?" "I brought her in an hour ago, I can't say how long it was after she was wounded when I found her," he replied truthfully. "Ach, tis been too long, th' lass is going tae have scars from this," he muttered and his eyes rolled in disgust. He began chanting, and blue light poured from his hands over the dark elf's body, and she soon stopped shaking, her skin darkening again, though it was still dyed a dark purple from all the blood covering her. He stopped, studied her again, and nodded briefly. He turned to Obelisk and told him, "Roight, ye can clean 'er up now, migh' be a tad sticky, but th' both of ye need a bath." With a scowl on his face, he added, "She's been cut many times over th' past year, I can tell. Been far too long, if anyone had healed 'er before, she might not have scarred up, but she's going tae be covered with em now. If the mulish paladin here had let me in a bit earlier, she might have had a few less, but that can't be helped now." The paladin guild master reddened, bowed stiffly, and walked out. Zelphanus chuckled under his breath and followed him out shortly after.  
  
Lifting her up, he walked to the door and waved for Zektoll to follow him. The magician took a step back and asked hesitantly, "Why do I have to go? You can take her to the baths yourself!" "Yes, but only you can cast the invisibility spell that will get us there and back without a fuss," Obelisk replied. Sighing, resigned to the disaster that had befallen him, the high elf began the spell, and soon the three of them crept down to the first floor where there was a room with a few washtubs and a wood-burning oven to heat water from a pump installed in the room. A few minutes later, Obelisk stood up from his own washbasin; his soiled clothes tossed in a corner, and finally cleaned of all the blood, though the water in the tub was just as red. He then walked over to where Drakana was lying, and he looked around for the start of one of the bandages, inspected it briefly, and then began to pull. "What, you're not going to bathe her yourself are you?" Zektoll asked, horrified. "Well, does it look like she can do it on her own?" he retorted, smirking, his beginnings of a moustache twitching. He continued yanking on the bandage, and it came off cleanly, though it was hard to tell the difference, as the skin below was the same color of the blood-soaked bandage. After some puzzling moments, Obelisk had the bandages off. He noticed a marked difference in her appearance since he first saw her. Her skin had been rough, with all the cuts having ragged edges, but now her skin was smooth, even though her features were still unrecognizable due to the heavy amount of blood on her. He picked her up and placed her gently in the tub, took up a washcloth, and began to wash her face. As the semi-dried blood was cleaned away, her face slowly emerged, and even Zektoll was impressed by how beautiful she was, despite the several scars etching across the indigo skin. "Wow," the high elf commented carefully, trying to hide his arousal, as the rest of her body was similarly clearing up. After the water was dyed a dark red by all the blood, Obelisk took her back out again, and used a fresh washcloth to clean her off. When he was done, he stopped and sat back to analyze the extent of what her injuries had been. Her face was the least scarred portion of her body, the rest was almost crosshatched with grayish-white scars tracing across almost the entirety of her frame. Scars etched their way across her breasts, cutting a small way into the areola of her left nipple, and framing her right breast all the way around, but not over it. Her navel bisected one scar, while another had a third separated by the division of her butt cheeks. Oddly, the soles of her feet had absolutely no mark on them, though the bottoms of her toes had an occasional scar or two. In all, the scars gave her an almost tattooed look, not at all like scar material, but rather like white paint. Obelisk traced his fingers along them, wincing himself as he saw some very sensitive areas that had been damaged. They felt the same as the rest of her skin, just colored differently. As he stood up, he realized just how small she looked, and then he noticed with a shock that she was thin, incredibly thin, she was half-starved. He put on the clothes he had brought with him, wrapped Drakana up in a towel, and waved for Zektoll to cast the spell again. Blushing, Zektoll forced himself to stop staring and complied, and they moved back up the stairs.  
  
Obelisk replaced her on her cot, and sat down to watch her on a chair, the back of it against his chest, watching her own rise and fall with her now steady breath. In the hour that passed, Zelphanus came by again, bringing with him a book on recovering from illnesses and starvation, which included recipes for special food, and tips on physical therapy to help bring back lost muscle and body mass. Thanking him, Zektoll began reading. "Hey, I can make most of these," he remarked as he looked at the food section interestedly. Obelisk paid him no mind, deep in thought about what to do now. Zektoll, as if reading his mind, asked, "So, what's our next step?" "We wait. For her to wake up."  
  
Drakana drifted back to consciousness slowly, her eyes finally opening slowly. Why am I still alive? she wondered, but the massive pain she had been expecting was replaced by a deep tiredness, and a gnawing hunger in her stomach. Weakly, she raised her arm to stare at it. An alien sight greeted her, as the waif-like arm striated with scars didn't seem like her own at all. Her eyes filled with tears as she could imagine what the rest of her body looked like. My beauty, destroyed! Why . . . oh why couldn't I die, taking this shame with me, Innoruuk? she thought miserably, but she couldn't do much more than shake with grief, exhaustion, and hunger. She heard voices whispering off to one side of her and she opened her eyes again. The ceiling was light maple wood, not the dark granite of Neriak. Where am I? she pondered, but her following mental question as to the identity of her rescuers was answered when Obelisk leaned over her. She gasped and attempted to scrabble backwards from him, but she was only strong enough to bring the blankets up to her chin in fright. His dark brown eyes widened in surprise, but softened as he extended a hand, telling her, "It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you." Still she recoiled backwards as if expecting him to strike her with that out-stretched hand. "Look at her, a dark elf terrified of a human? I never thought I'd see that!" a tenor voice snorted from behind the human monk. Zektoll was stirring a pot filled with an amber-colored broth; the high elf had an amused smirk covering his face. He lifted a spoonful of the broth to his lips and tasted it, shrugging, and began ladling it into a bowl. "I guess it tastes all right. According to the book, she should be eating this for a week or so, until her stomach gets adjusted to eating again, then she can graduate to more solid soups, and finally back to normal food, but that won't be likely till another month or so," he remarked, handing the bowl to Obelisk.  
  
"Come on, you want to eat something, right?" the young man asked Drakana, who overcame her fear enough to raise her nose above the covers, and when she sniffed, the hunger of the past few months overtook her and she raised her arms stiffly to try and take the bowl, but Obelisk shook his head, and instead extended a spoonful of the broth to her. Her hands feebly assisting her, she thrust the spoon into her mouth, Obelisk still holding onto it to make sure it was steady and she didn't choke. She gulped it down quickly, and tried to ask for more, but her throat wouldn't work, it was still too raw. Obelisk filled the spoon again, and told her as he fed her, "Now, swallow it slowly this time. You're feeling pretty hungry, but you can't take much food yet, so don't make yourself sick so that you can't get the most out of it." Her stomach screamed with hunger, but she forced herself to nod and took the next spoonful more slowly.  
  
After a while, the bowl was empty, and her hunger satisfied. Replacing the bowl, Obelisk looked out the small window at the night sky. "It's about night-time, you've been sleeping for three days. You still need rest, can you go to sleep on your own?" he asked her. Though she felt tired, she wanted to stay awake, if only to keep an eye on her hosts, or captors, she amended, so she shook her head. Instead of knocking her out, or reaching for a sleeping drug like she expected, he instead took a thick book off the table in the room and cracked it open. "My mother always used to read to me when I had trouble sleeping, despite a tough workout at the Ashen Order guild house, so it may as well work for you. Okay, Chapter 1, the tale of the Combine Empire . . . " As he started to read, Drakana couldn't believe her ears. He's reading me . . . a bedtime story? she thought incredulously, but she became absorbed in the tale, and before long, her eyelids grew heavy, and sleep overtook her.  
  
Weeks later . . .  
  
Zektoll was scribing the last of his spells into his spell book, after the long hiatus needed to nurse Drakana back to a semblance of health. His ears twitched, and he moved his head slightly to the side as a bit of chicken stew went flying past the spot it had previously occupied. Drakana simply giggled and reloaded, this time it went shooting towards his right arm, which he lifted in time for it to go straightly under it. Behind him, Obelisk had somehow manages to catch both spoonfuls in his mouth, as he had done with the nine previous ones from where he was lying on the floor, attempting to study the texts describing the Tiger Claw move he was to start learning. The sauce still stuck to his moustache, which he had shaved off and re-grown, and was now coming in full and luxuriant. Unconcerned, he licked it off, and told her, "Y'know, I'm eating more of this than you are, stop playing and eat, we start practice tomorrow." "All right," she muttered, imitating his already-famous grin. She had regained what weight she had lost, though she was still somewhat more slender than she had been. Obelisk had offered to lead her through the physical therapy exercises that would restore the muscle mass that had atrophied. At this point, she was clad in small leather clothes, which Obelisk had bought from a halfling woman trading in North Freeport, which just happened to be the dark elf's size. As if she wasn't a knockout before even in her emaciated state, she was now achingly attractive, her build as slight as her race's usually was, but she had told them that she used to be as strong and almost as built as Obelisk, so he had thus offered to let her train with him.though in secret, because the paladin guards still were not used to seeing her around, and had chased her off when they had tried walking in public for the first time. In recovering from being almost baby-weak, she had lost her arrogance, and had now adopted somewhat of a playful, girl-like attitude at times, but she frequently went dead serious. Zektoll had nearly gone into apoplexy when she jokingly kissed him on the cheek once when he was studying, grumbling that she was 'entirely out of form for her race'.  
  
Months pass.  
  
Drakana's leather shirt now strains to contain her frame, the seams near to busting in some places; also in danger of falling out of the front with its now too low neckline. The pants are also dangerously tight, requiring much effort to tug them on now. When she walks with Obelisk for their daily training session near the Ashen Order, people stare at first when they notice her clothes, but they wince and turn away when they see her scarred face and chest. The expressions that they make tear at her heart, she was used to being admired by the youths of Neriak all the time, but now few people's gazes lingered on her for more than a few seconds. The only one person other than Obelisk and Zektoll to not pay any mind to her scars was a young bard who called himself Nixxius, a dashing rogue of a man, though too pretty for her taste, wood elves were typically like that, she thought. The bard had noticed her sneaking past the guards in North Freeport, and had played a song to get them past the guards in exchange for visiting rights at the inn in which they were staying. His brother, Lupin, a druid, paid no especial attention to her scars, but then again, he didn't pay much mind to anyone else, his wolf's eyes glittering gold in the sunlight which always seemed to be around him, no matter how cloudy the day was. His gray hair had nothing to do with age, but it definitely gave him a wolfish appearance combined with his eyes, which unnerved her to no end. He, unlike his sibling, treated her scars as ones rightfully earned in battle rather than marring her otherwise impressive looks, and she had no heart to correct him.  
  
She carried several items in her arms, a couple backpacks, a light stone, two different bracers, and various banded mail pieces, but they hadn't found any major armor pieces for her to wear. As they passed a rather worn out man's booth, he called dejectedly, "Bronze armor for sale! Cheap! Going fast, you better buy now . . . oh why bother." The man's blond hair hung greasily off his forehead, and his face was covered in stubble. However, his goods had almost the exact opposite appearance. A bronze breastplate made for a woman, in addition to matching legs lay on the table, with bronze boots and a skull-shaped helm sitting next to them. "Hey, how much are those?" she asked, leaning over the pieces with a smile. He looked up and gave a gasp and started back, but soon leaned forwards with a hopeful look in his eye. "For you, pretty lady, very cheap, no more than seventeen platinum for the breastplate, fourteen for the legs, and ten for the boots and helm," he proclaimed, rubbing his hands together. Obelisk, however, looked at him critically, his moustache twitching, and asked, "Why haven't you sold these before? Is there something wrong with them?" The man's eyes once again filled with fear before he answered in a depressed tone. "The only reason these beauties hasn't sold is that there's so much better on the market. I had made these special, for the woman warrior with plenty of strength, but now with so many others selling fine steel, and more class- related armors, I'm running out of business," he finished, his head hanging. He looked up as the clink of coins sounded on the wood. "We'll take them," Drakana told him, counting out the platinum carefully. He nodded gratefully, and closed up his booth, muttering something about getting started trading and reselling, getting back on his feet with what he had saved.  
  
They ducked behind a wall of curtains as Drakana dropped her things in a pile and began to undress. They had been unable to find dark elven underclothes for her, so Obelisk had to get the gnomes in the tailoring shop nearby to make some for her. Shrugging off the leather gratefully, she began strapping the metal armor on. The bronze armor fit like a glove, moving in the right areas, each joint and plate sound. The Serpentine Bracer and Erollissi Bracer also fit just right as well, but she quickly noticed that she didn't have gloves, she considered putting on the helm, but left it off. The armor wasn't all that pricey, due to the meager earnings of both Obelisk and Zektoll, but she was now almost outfitted for combat. The only things missing were arm plates, and gloves. She had found a Berserker's sword in a bargain auction, and a Mistmoore shield was given to her by a experienced wood elven veteran, who winked at her appreciatively when she had asked him the price. These and more had been boosting her confidence. She was putting her old clothes into one of the backpacks when she noticed the sigil of Innoruuk sitting shining darkly on top of her old shirt. It had been left with her strangely when she was abandoned, and she had kept it until now. She picked it up, looked at it with none of the former reverence she had held for it, and disgusted, pitched it into a nearby gutter.  
  
They searched for another couple hours without finding anything. Since it was getting dark, they were preparing to leave for North Freeport again when the man from before came running up to them. His hair had been cleaned and combed, and he had put on a respectable shirt and pants, though he still had stubble clinging to his chin. He grinned, and told Drakana, "Lady, I don't know how to thank ya. I'm back in the loop, I just got into a real bargain, now I can start making my way back to where I was by trading again. I got these as part of the deal, but since they are still relatively low price, I felt you needed some sort of payback for helping me out. You are a shadow knight, right lady? Necklace said it all, plus the fact that you are built like a warrior, but still as stacked as a high elven model, if you know what I mean." In his now clean hands, there glittered some emerald hued fine steel gauntlets, and some Darkforge vambraces. He thrust them into her hands, and walked off whistling happily. She called, "Thank you!" after him, but she doubted he heard her. She strapped on the new armor, and her ensemble was complete. She darted in front of a mirror on display in a local shop and twirled happily to observe her reflection. When she stopped, Obelisk stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You look great, how about we go back and get a bite to eat?" he asked her, grinning broadly. She blushed, and placed a hand softly over his and replied, "Sure." As they walked back up the ramp, she told him, "I'm looking forwards to hunting in the Commonlands tomorrow."  
  
Drakana eased back on the patch of warm grass, humming to herself happily as Nixxius amused himself nearby by juggling the excess Dervish Cutthroat rings they had accumulated. The camp had been entirely emptied out by the five of them, and they were considering moving on to the camps in the northern part of the desert of Ro. Bored of the juggling, Nixxius instead pulled out his lute, tuning it briefly, then began strumming random cords. Lupin was busy feeding a family of rabbits that had wandered up to him, and Zektoll was ticking off the spells he was supposed to research soon. Obelisk was gathering up his spoils, and strode off with a wave, going to go sell at one of the inns nearby. She stared longingly after him, which did not go unnoticed, as Nixxius smirked, and whispered to her, "I knew you had the hots for that guy," with a grin. The dark elven maiden blushed violet, and began to protest, but the bard dismissed it with a flick of his hand. He went back to strumming his lute, and just as she was preparing a retort, he asked her, "So, would you like me to compose a song for you to sing for him? You've got a great voice, if I may say so, trust me, I ought to know." "A . . . song?" she stammered, pondered for a few minutes, then replied truthfully, "I don't know what you could write about." Nixxius tapped his slender fingers to his lips, and then pointed them at her face, and he asked her, "How did you get those scars anyways? They'd make a great focus for the song, if they were somehow gained in defense of him or something heroic like that." Her face darkened at that, and the young wood elf backed off at bit at the sudden hatred in her face as she glared at the ground. She shook herself and forcibly smoothed her face. "You . . . really want to know?" she asked hesitantly, her voice still slightly heated, but with a tinge of nervousness in it. He nodded immediately, but as if regretting that move, he added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I mean, the song could sing his praises or something . . . but then again, he really hasn't done much, so it'd have to be about his body. . ." She cut him off with a shake of her head. Drakana looked over to where Lupin was chasing off an overzealous plains cat from getting at the rabbits, which were huddled near his bags. "Don't tell Lupin about this, he still thinks I got these honorably," she told him, tracing her fingertips over her scarred cheeks, "But they came from something far less positive." "What then?" he responded.  
  
Hurriedly, she told him about the fall of her house, being sold into bondage to Karadin, him torturing her, though leaving out more sensitive sections, and being found by Obelisk, near dead in the forest. Her voice broke frequently, and a tear occasionally found it's way down her face, but her crimson eyes shone when she described all the wonderful things Obelisk had done for her, helping her get back on her feet and finding meaning in her life. Nixxius nodded thoughtfully, then sat back and stared at the sky, silent. She worried that she had upset him by telling about her sordid background, but before long he started humming a strange song, seemingly making it up as he went. He tapped his almost effeminate fingers on his knees, as if establishing a beat and lyrics. With an intense look in his warm brown eyes, he sat up and snatched his lute to him, and started strumming it along to the music he was humming. He stopped humming after a while, but he still muttered the lyrics to the song under his breath. After a few minutes, he had repeated the song again, and satisfied, he stopped and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink well. With a sure, quick hand, he rolled out the parchment, which turned out to be a blank music sheet, devoid of notes, and he wrote down the tempo, beat, notes, and even the lyrics. The whole process took little over five minutes, and he mischievously shifted his back when Drakana attempted to peer under his arm at the song. When finished, he took up his lute again, and asked her carefully, "It's done, but you may or may not like it, but I feel it's appropriate, given your experiences. Do you still want me to play it?" His ordinarily dancing eyes were liquid pity now, looking at her, and she gulped, unsure of what to say. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. Strumming his lute, he began:  
  
You set me free, finally, I see! You set me free, in you I can believe, you set me free . . .  
  
I was alone when you came to me, saw that I was naked, broken, I couldn't find the strength to carry on. You lifted me up, and you sheltered me, opened up your heart to me, loved me, when I needed you most!  
  
And you set me free! Finally, I see! You set me free, in you I can believe, you set me free, you're everything to me. You set me free, in you I can believe, you set me free . . .  
  
Only your love will set me free, your love will set me free, you set me free. Only your love will set me free, your love will set me free, you set me free.  
  
And you set me free! Finally, I see! You set me free, in you I can believe, you set me free, you're everything to me. You set me free, in you I can believe, you set me free . . .  
  
You set me free.  
  
"You Set Me Free" is copyright of Abigail, so once again, don't sue me, please.  
  
After he stopped, tears were sliding down Drakana's face. He started in shock, and he opened his mouth to apologize, but stopped when she whispered half to herself, "It's perfect." Thanking him with a light kiss on his cheek, she got up and ran off in the direction Obelisk had taken. She stopped at the inn that was on that straight path, and was about to start in when she heard a light, silvery voice ask, "Oh, so you like it like that do you, big, strong man?" The hair on the back of her neck bristling, she growled and was about to thrust the door open, but stopped when a deep male voice replied, "Oh yes . . . yes . . . " That was not Obelisk . . . Her anger replaced by partially ashamed curiosity, she opened the door a crack, and was startled by what she saw on the other side. A fiery haired wood elf maiden was rubbing up against the aging innkeeper, who leered at her lasciviously, and groped her breasts greedily, which were emphasized by her banded mail tunic. She was too stunned to see that the smile on the rogue's face was forced, and her eyes strained. "Now, tough guy, let's talk about those prices . . . " the wood elf commented, and the innkeeper was broken out of his trance temporarily. "Oh, what? Oh, yes . . . right. For you, Hillodania, sweet cakes . . .the best deal in the house! Can only offer the max of what they're really worth of course, business is business you know!" he replied, then grinned again and pinched the rogue's buttocks. She winced, just barely, but she returned his smile, hiding her disgust, and began unloading things from her bags onto the counter. Her face hot, Drakana shut the door swiftly. First men that are too pretty . . . then women that are sluts?! Honestly, is this what the Feir'Dal have sunken to? she thought to herself incredulously. Her cheeks still violet from blushing, she headed off back to the camp, Obelisk entirely forgotten. She found him sitting back next to Nixxius, who, thankfully, was playing a different song. Lupin was with them too, roasting the meat of the puma he had killed earlier, and the rabbits were perched all over him. Embarrassed, but reminded of her song, she decided she would sing it for him later, when she got the chance to be alone with him again, without an audience. "Oh, there you are! I couldn't go to the main inn because a griffin was flying past at the time, so I went to the one further west, I hope I didn't worry you," Obelisk called out to her as she approached. "No, it's fine, I'm just glad you're all right," she replied. And alone, she amended mentally.  
  
Years later . . .  
  
Drakana removed one of her gauntlets to wipe sweat from her forehead. Her armor was now a combination of black and blood red, having either purchased or quested for most of it. She also carried a Dark Reaver, won in Lower Guk. Her pet followed her at a distance; her pets never liked her, and they thought she was too soft, too like the lighter races until they felt her wrath at least. She had returned to the North after a long foray into the south at the Temple of Cazic Thule and Lower Guk, but she had heard information from other dark elves that her father was still alive, and living in Najena. She had made Obelisk stay out of Nektulos, and not follow her here. This was a family matter. The broken doors of Najena loomed before her now, and the tunnel leading into the keep extended off into the broiling darkness. As she stepped closer, she saw a collection of headstones outside. She stooped near them, and her heart leapt into her throat when she read what was inscribed on them. Golgoth X'Bael . . . Grendael X'Bael . . . Lilith X'Lottl X'Bael. Her mother, she was dead too? She collapsed near her mother's gravestone and wept, her mother was the one who had loved her the most as a child, had encouraged her to do her best, and now she was gone too. Her brothers had been dead for years, but new grief still rent her heart. Forcing her sadness down, she wiped her tears away, and thinking of her father, entered the tunnel, staring determinately ahead.  
  
The inside of Najena was in shambles. It had not looked at all like this when she had been here last with her father. There were still ogre guards wandering around, as well as numerous skeletons. One guard sauntered up to her, and demanded in a rough, but intrigued growl, "Ey, wat you do here, pretty lady? Or not so pretty, wat wit all da scars yous gots, heh, me just joking, but really, wat you want?" Glaring at him slightly, she drew herself up and proclaimed in Dark Speech, It is I, Drakana of House X'Bael, daughter of Lucifer, son of Shoggoth, and I demand entry as part of my honor, and of our lord, the Prince of Hatred, Lord Innoruuk! The ogre blinked at the fanciful speech, but he clearly understood her meaning, and ushered her down the hall.  
  
Lucifer, formerly of the House X'Bael, did not look up from his books when the guard opened the door, merely waving his hand and remarking, "I thought I said I wasn't to be disturbed, not for . . . " "Father!" His eyes nearly popping out of his head, he stood up with a jolt, knocking his chair to the floor. He beheld Drakana, his only daughter, and now only child gazing at him with tears of joy in her eyes. "Oh, father . . . " she said, choked up with emotion, and started forwards, but he almost ran around the table, though with a slight limp, and caught her up in a tight embrace before she could take a step. Father and daughter held onto each other as if they weren't sure the other would disappear any second, and the ogre guard, scratching his head in embarrassment, walked out and closed the door. After a while, Drakana said, her eyes still closed and wet from crying, "Mother's dead . . . how did she die?" His own crimson eyes tightened, and he clutched her tighter, and told her, "There have been regular raids into Najena recently, they are all trying to get at the rare artifacts they believe we hold here. Your mother . . . died . . . attempting to save me from an arrow during the last raid. She was only partially successful, she was able to knock the arrow aside and backstab the archer, but one of his companions repaid her selfless act with his sword. In a rage, I succeeded in killing him and the rest of his party, but I suffered an injury from the murderer's sword in my knee, which is why I limp." "Oh, father . . . " she repeated, her tears starting over again. After a while, she asked him, "Don't you think I'm weak, crying like this? I should be ashamed to be a dark elf, unworthy to be your daughter, I . . ." but he stopped her with a finger to her lips. He shook his head and replied, "No, far from it. I used to think so, but meeting your mother changed that. She proved that love can be just a powerful force as hatred, and that you often need both sides of the coin to survive. Surely, you know that, you need a positive side to balance the negative, your loss, and your hatred of Karadin." She smiled, and responded, "I think I may have found that positive side, a man that I love. But . . . he is human, father, a monk." He smiled sadly, and told her, "That doesn't matter . . . you should introduce me to him someday."  
  
Suddenly, the moment was rendered asunder by the click of the lock, and the door crashed open. One of the dark elven wizards was holding the keys, and a Barbarian had her by the throat. Smashing her over the head, the warrior tossed her into the room and stepped over her unconscious body. He glared at the pair of them, then grinned evilly, and remarked, "This bitch didn't have all the keys we wanted, where's the key to the rooms with Drelzna and Najena? I want my Journeyman Boots, dammit!" Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and he broke the embrace and pushed Drakana behind him. "The key is in my possession, but you may only have it if you take it from my cold, dead fingers," he replied as more than thirty adventurers piled into the spacious room. "Doesn't matter, old geezer, we'll take it regardless, though if you want a fight, you're on," the Barbarian replied arrogantly. Her mouth set, Drakana thrust herself in front of her father, her Dark Reaver raised. The warrior regarded her appreciatively, but then focused back on the task and hand and told her half-heartedly, "Get out of here, girl. This doesn't concern you." "That's right," Lucifer said, placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder. Beside them, the wizard was regaining consciousness. Shocked, she turned to her father and demanded, "Why? With the both of us, we can take this rabble!" "No," he replied, gazing into her eyes. "We both know that there are too many of them, inexperienced as they are, they will still overwhelm us. I have lived a full life, I have no regrets, take this, and leave with the wizard," he told her, and pressed an amulet into her hand. On it, was the symbol of the X'Bael family, the trademark of the head of a noble house. "Take her, and get her out of here," he told the wizard, who nodded, and started to cast the teleportation spell. Still limping slightly, Lucifer went over to the wall where he took his massive sword off the wall, drew it, and tossed the heavy scabbard onto the ground.  
  
"Now, take me, if you can," he roared, dashing towards the leader with astonishing speed. "FATHER, NO!!!" Drakana shrieked, straining against the arms of the wizard, who was pulling her into the gateway. As the room faded from view in the blinding light, she saw her father disappear under the blades of the adventurers. Outside, in Nektulos Forest, the silence of the night was rent by Drakana's scream slowly coming into existence as she and the wizard appeared at the small pyramid. The shadow knight collapsed to her knees, unable to cry, deep in shock. "Now I have nothing left." she gasped, and her head sagged down into her hands. The wizard placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder briefly, saying, "It's what the lord would have wanted," before she left in a gate spell, undeniably heading back to protect her mistress. Drakana hugged her knees to her chest and sat and rocked there on the cold, pale stone for hours, holding the amulet clenched in her fist. Finally, she stood up with new determination on her face. "No," she said aloud, "I do have something, two something's, positive, and negative, like father said." "Obelisk . . .my love . . . and Karadin . . . my mortal enemy. Still I am unready as of yet to face either fully . . . I shall have to become stronger, I can't let myself be weak anymore," she declared. When she arrived at the mouth of the tunnel to the East Commonlands, Obelisk was waiting for her. "Did you find what you wanted?" he asked her, noticing her eyes more red that usual from crying, as well as the amulet she now wore. "Yes . . . and no," she replied. Obelisk held her for a while, then stood back and told her, "I've got some news that will cheer you up, take a look at this!" He pulled out a map and almost thrust it under her nose. She took it, looked it over, and looked at him, confused. "So?" she asked. He pointed a finger at the corner of the map and she looked again and her eyes widened. "A new continent?" she asked in awe. "Yes, what little they've discovered of it. So far, I've heard, there's two settlements, one for lighter races, the other for darker ones. I've been assigned to find out about a supposed monk guild being run by an alien race of lizard men living there. What I think is that we should go to both cities, then meet halfway!" he exclaimed excitedly. She forced herself to smile and said, "Sounds great . . ."  
  
{The Events of "Opposites Attract" pass.} Karadin stood up from his padded chair and staggered over to the nearly empty liquor cabinet. The years following his defeat of the X'Bael family had taken their toll on him. While he had enjoyed new support from those who followed the Queen, his other rivals had decried his actions against the other House, and more families joined their side every year. He had taken to drinking heavily, and had pulled even more random girls off the city streets for his own private amusement, nearly drawing inquiries even from the king when he had gone so far as to snatch a half elven woman out of Nektulos forest. Though he still kept up with his exercises, a small potbelly was beginning to develop, and his beard had long since nearly faded colorless, his face becoming lined and leathery with wrinkles. Rather than seizing anther bottle, he instead took up two small capsules of green powder and popped them into his mouth, washing them down with painfully cold water. He shook his head as the combination of ice water and herbs brought him forcibly back to sobriety. He braced himself on the fine wood of the cabinet, and stood up with a groan, cracking his joints. It was midnight in Neriak, and the torches had been doused to let the citizens sleep. However, afflicted with insomnia, Karadin J'Narus couldn't sleep. Other than court intrigue, his own son was beginning to make moves towards his seat, and he almost feared being deposed. Shrugging it off, he was about to return to the chair when the door creaked open and a cloaked figure stepped silently in. After the person closed the door, the cloak was dropped to the ground, revealing an armored, but shapely silhouette. This may turn out to be a fine night after all, Karadin thought, then asked her, "So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit, milady?" "Revenge," the woman replied simply, her voice cold enough to freeze Solusek's eye. Snapping to alertness, he called loudly, "Kouze! Hakkou!"  
  
However, his guards did not come running. Even in the pitch darkness he could see the woman's lips separate in a smile, a smile that was slightly crooked on one side. "I think you guards will find it rather hard to come to your aid without heads . . . among other things. In fact, almost all of your guards, with the exception of your new ones have all been killed," she told him. Suspicion growing in his mind, he asked in a tight voice, "Who . . . are . . . you? You're not one of those X'Lottl women, are you? Out to savage my head again I suppose?" "No, someone with a debt far deeper than the house of my mother's," the woman said, stepping into the thin light that his candle cast. Karadin's eyes bulged in shock and outrage. "YOU!!! It's impossible! I killed you, I made sure of it!" he shouted, backing up to the wall, his face ashen gray. Drakana grinned at his discomfort, her family amulet gleaming in the amber light. "Not just yet, bastard. You ought to check for a pulse once and a while, or at least stay to confirm the results. I'm afraid you're going to pay for your lack of discretion, in spades," she told him, and he began shaking with fear and rage. "You can't be here, there's an order out on the head of any X'Bael that comes back into Neriak!" he squalled, his face alternating between near white and purplish red. He seized the two swords that hung above his head and leveled them at her. He licked his pointed teeth with a scowl. "I'll taste your blood again, girl, this time all of it!" he growled, and darted towards her. "For my father!" she cried and met his sword with her Dark Reaver. Almost immediately, the ebon blade drained his strength and transferred it to the Shadow Knight. Still, he came on in a fury of blows, all his lethargy forgotten in a red haze of rage. He forgot to account for her spells, and soon darkness seeped over him, disease wracked his frame, and poison leaked through his blood stream. In a berserker rage, he swung wildly, managing to do little than create small gashes on her body. Ignoring the relatively minor injuries, she prepared her ultimate attack, the Hate Touch inborn in every Shadow Knight. Smashing aside his blades with her blade, she raised her hand and crimson energy gathered in it. "For my brothers, for my mother, for my father, for everyone you've every killed, you must die!" she cried, and slammed her hand palm down on his chest. All of her rage, her pain, her sadness, and her entire soul went into that final blow. With an unearthly howl, Karadin sank to the ground, blood pouring out of his mouth.  
  
As she straightened, panting from the effort, she heard clapping behind her. She whipped around to find herself staring at a near mirror image of the younger Karadin. It was Krizin J'Narus, Karadin's son. "Very impressive, if I may say so myself, I didn't think anyone could put the old vampire out of commission. You have my thanks," he told her. Confusion flickered across her face, Krizin had been one of her only detractors among her childhood peers. "What about the order? Shouldn't you be trying to kill me?" she asked him, tensing up for another battle. He looked almost as surprised as she did, and he replied, "Why would I do a thing like that? You've just eliminated years' struggles to get at the family fortune, and my ultimate step up to power. Besides, I always liked you, a little, I only put on a show because father demanded it. As for your death warrant . . . well, as the last member of the X'Bael family, as your amulet shows, there's no real need for it anymore." He pulled out a small scrap of parchment, scratched out a pardon, and took up the candle from the table, and poured some red wax on it. He wrenched his father's signet off his corpse's hand, and pressed it to the seal. "This should get you out of the city, or it will allow you to trade and do business here again if you so wish," he said, handing it to her. She inclined her head briefly as she stepped past him, and he gave her a little wink, and as she snuck down the steps to the street, she heard him remark, "How should I break the good news to mother?"  
  
A few days later, a dark elf messenger to Najena hurried towards the entrance when he noticed a fresh headstone next to the three others. On it was Lucifer X'Bael's name, placed next to his wife's grave marker. But the thing that surprised him most was freshly picked flowers, already wilting in the heat placed on all four graves. On Lucifer's bouquet, a small note read,  
  
"I shall find the true positive in life, now that the negative is removed. You are avenged, father. Your loving daughter, Drakana X'Bael, Matriarch of House X'Bael."  
  
Most of the characters, animals, places, and objects contained in this story are from Everquest, which is the property of Verant Interactive and Sony Online Entertainment. 


End file.
